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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24129313">Define Cute</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/hey_its_lyn/pseuds/hey_its_lyn'>hey_its_lyn</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>TimKon Week 2020 [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types, Teen Titans - All Media Types, Young Justice - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Arrested Kon-El, But it's for good reasons, Explicit Language, Galas, Grocery Store Fist Fights, High School AU, M/M, Mentioned Wayne Family, Police Officer Dick Grayson, Protective Kon-El | Conner Kent, Sleep Deprived Tim Drake, TimKon Week 2020</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 16:35:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,133</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24129313</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/hey_its_lyn/pseuds/hey_its_lyn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hey, Tim,” Officer Grayson says. “No, I’m not sure when I’ll be home. I got a seventeen-year-old sitting in my back seat on the way to the station.”</p><p>Conner winces. Great. Not that he’ll ever meet this ‘Tim,’ but just hearing it said out loud makes him shiver. Conner jerks in surprise when Officer Grayson catches his eye in the mirror.</p><p>“My little brother wants to know if you’re cute.”</p><p>Conner blinks in surprise. He opens and closes his mouth, likely looking like a stupid fish from one of those cartoons Jon loves. Eventually, he shakes his head and pinches his thigh. Officer Grayson is still looking at him expectantly.</p><p>“I would like to think so, sir,” Conner says.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>TimKon Week 2020 [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1740391</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>781</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>TimKon Week</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Define Cute</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>TimKon Week Day 2: High School AU / Angst</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Conner’s not sure exactly what it is that makes him throw the first punch.</p><p>Sure, overall, it’s the fact that the guy is an asshole. But that alone isn’t enough to make Conner lose his cool. He’s dealt with assholes all his life.</p><p>He’s not sure if it’s when the man calls his girlfriend a whore or when he raises his hand and the girl flinches when he decides that enough is enough. He grabs the girl by the shoulders and tucks her firmly behind him.</p><p>“Best to go call someone to pick you up, miss,” Conner says shortly. “There’s no reason for you to be going anywhere with him.”</p><p>The girl nods slowly, shaking as she fumbles to pull her phone from her pocket and backing away from the two men.</p><p>The asshole, however, glares at Conner as though looks are enough to kill. “Who the hell do you think you are?” the man spits.</p><p>“A good Samaritan,” Conner offers.</p><p>He widens his stance, planting himself solidly in front of the other man to keep a barrier between him and the girl. Conner can see her from the corner of his eye, phone pressed against her ear as she hides behind a nearby display of Coca Cola.</p><p>“An interfering bastard more like it,” the asshole says. “You ain’t got no right to take my girl from me.”</p><p>Conner glares. “She’s not your anything,” he says. “And you have no right to talk to her like that.”</p><p>“I can talk to the bitch any damn way I want—”</p><p>Conner’s fist is colliding with the man’s nose before he can finish the sentence. Surprised, the asshole goes sprawling, falling back and landing on his ass. His eyes widen in shock before he growls and rises to his feet.</p><p>The asshole throws himself at Conner with a shout, and Conner doesn’t quite manage to dodge the man’s right hook. His fists grazes across Conner’s cheekbone just as he ducks to avoid the hit. He ignores the vicious sting of his cheek and whirls around, wrapping his arms tight around the asshole, pinning his arms to his side.</p><p>“Let go of me, you little bastard!”</p><p>Conner easily moves his foot away from an attempted stomp on his toes.</p><p>“Are you going to let the lady walk out of here without a fight?” he asks calmly.</p><p>“She’s walkin’ outta here with me,” the asshole snarls. “She’s my girlfriend.”</p><p>“Then you should treat her with respect.”</p><p>“You little shit!”</p><p>Conner gets no warning before the man is throwing his head back, crashing straight into Conner’s nose. Conner stumbles back, though not letting go of the asshole completely. He can taste the blood on his lips.</p><p>“Let me go you little—”</p><p>“Alright,” a new voice calls out, “break it up.”</p><p>Conner looks in the direction of the voice, seeing a police officer making his way towards them. He slowly releases his arms from around the asshole, backing away with his hands held up. The officer nods at him, but before either of them can do something, the asshole is snarling and pouncing at Conner.</p><p>The asshole grabs Conner by the shoulders, dragging them both to the ground. Conner feels his head slam against the tile floor, and he thinks he hears the officer shouting, but everything’s a little fuzzy and his brain feels like it’s rattling around in his skull. The asshole’s sitting on his chest, so it’s a little hard to breathe.</p><p>Conner tries to push the man off of him, and he assumes the officer is helping because the man’s weight is shifted off his torso. Conner remains laying on the ground. He takes a moment to take several deep breaths, closing his eyes and trying to soothe the throbbing of his head, allowing what he just did to really sink in.</p><p>And shit, Clark is going to kill him.</p><p>Conner groans. A shadow falls over him.</p><p>“Are you okay, son?”</p><p>Conner blearily opens his eyes, blinking to clearly the fuzziness. He knows the fuzziness is probably a bad thing. He ignores it for the moment, focusing instead on the man kneeling down next to him.</p><p>“M’okay,” Conner mumbles, rolling to his side to use his elbow in an attempt to pull himself up.</p><p>“Go slow there,” the man says softly. “You knocked your head pretty good there. Don’t want to get dizzy.”</p><p>Conner hums, feeling the man place a hand on his shoulder and help support him as he sits up. His head spins, and Conner squeezes his eyes shut.</p><p>“You’re okay, son,” the man soothes. “Marcy is bringing you some ice for that cheek of yours. You took a nasty hit.”</p><p>“Better me than her.”</p><p>The man squeezes his shoulder. “You’re a good lad. We saw what happened, and we’ll explain that to the police.”</p><p>Nodding, Conner tries to relax and allow the spinning in his head to begin to settle. An older woman brings him a bag of ice and a cool rag, smiling at him as she hands them over.</p><p>“Thank you, ma’am,” Conner says, using the rag to wipe the blood from his nose and lips.</p><p>“Please,” the woman says, “Call me Marcy. This is Noah, since I’m sure he didn’t introduce himself. We own the store.”</p><p>Conner winces. “I’m really sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to cause a scene.”</p><p>Marcy waves a hand. “You defended a young girl. That’s all that matters. Now put that rag against your cheek.” She tuts, gently turning his head to the side. “He made you bleed with that right hook. You’ll have a terrible bruise.”</p><p>“The pigs back home have given me worse,” Conner says, pressing the rag to the cut on his cheek. He hisses at the sharp lance of pain that flares up when he touches his cheek.</p><p>Noah laughs. “Where you from?”</p><p>“Kansas.”</p><p>“No wonder you were able to hold him down like that,” Marcy says. “Good on you.”</p><p>Marcy stands, smoothing her hands down her skirt. “I’m going to go talk to one of those officers. Let them know what happened.” She smiles down at Conner. “You’re welcome here anytime, son.”</p><p>“Thank you, Miss Marcy.”</p><p>Marcy smooths a gentle hand over his head before turning away with a smile. Noah watches her go with a fond look.</p><p>“If she sees you here again, she’ll likely give you a discount.”</p><p>Conner laughs, ignoring how it jostles his sore nose. “That’ll make my stepmom happy.”</p><p>“Then that means that everyone will be a bit happier,” Noah says. “I need to go soothe some of the costumers. Are you going to be okay here?”</p><p>“Yes, sir.”</p><p>Noah gives his shoulder a pat. “If you need anything, let us know. Don’t be shy.”</p><p>“Yes, sir.”</p><p>Noah shakes his head and laughs, standing up and making his way towards the small crowd of shoppers who have gathered to see what caused the commotion. More officers have arrived, though Conner doesn’t see how many there are. He remains seated on the floor, holding the ice to his cheek and leaving the rag folded on the floor beside him. He doesn’t even notice the officer who first broke up the fight by pulling the asshole off of Conner’s chest until the man speaks.</p><p>“You broke his nose, you know?”</p><p>Conner looks up to see the police officer peering down at him, lips quirked in a minuscule smile.</p><p>“Uh… No, sir.”</p><p>The officer shakes his head, amused. “You eighteen yet?”</p><p>Conner shifts the ice pack to help soothe his throbbing cheek. “I’m seventeen, sir.”</p><p>The officer nods. “Want to tell me what happened?”</p><p>“The man was yelling at his girlfriend. He raised his hand like he was going to hit her, so I stepped in.”</p><p>The officer raises an eyebrow. “And decked him in the nose?”</p><p>Conner flushes. “He called her a bitch, sir. I didn’t think much further than that.”</p><p>The officer sighs. “Alright, kid, I hate to do this to you, but I got to bring you down to the station.” He looks regretful as he motions for Conner to stand up. “The other guy says he wants to press charges, so I got to bring you in to get all your information. You got your phone on you to call someone to pick you up?”</p><p>“It’s dead, sir. Forgot to charge it last night.”</p><p>The officer winces in sympathy. “You’ll just have to call them from the station.”</p><p>Conner pushes himself to his feet, a cold feeling curling in his gut. He simply nods his head and follows the officer out of the store and towards the parked squad car. He jumps when the officer places a warm hand on his shoulder.</p><p>“What’s your name? I can’t just keep calling you kid.”</p><p>“Conner.”</p><p>The officer grins. “Alright, Conner. My name’s Officer Grayson.”</p><p>He pulls open the door to the backseat, waiting until Conner is completely inside before shutting the door and crawling into the driver’s seat up front. He looks back through the rearview mirror, making sure that Conner has his seatbelt on before starting the car and pulling out of the neighborhood grocery store.</p><p>“Don’t worry about having to go down to the station,” Officer Grayson says when the silence stretches uncomfortably between them. “It’s just a formality. My guess is that the guy won’t even follow through with the charges, and even if he does, the worst a judge will give you is a bit of community service. I would have done the same thing.”</p><p>Conner nods numbly. He feels slightly better, but the feeling doesn’t last when he imagines what it will be like to have Clark pick up the phone when he calls home. God, or Lois. He doesn’t know which of the two will be worse. Heaven forbid Jon picks up the phone for any reason.</p><p>Conner leans his head back against the headrest, setting the ice in his lap as it begins to hurt his face rather than soothe it. He and Officer Grayson don’t talk, and Conner is content to close his eyes and wallow about how he’s so going to be grounded when he gets home. It isn’t until he hears Officer Grayson’s phone ring that he opens his eyes.</p><p>“Hey, Tim,” Officer Grayson says, and Conner can see he has his cellphone pressed to his ear by sandwiching it between his shoulder and his cheek. “No, I’m not sure when I’ll be home.”</p><p>There’s a break where Conner assumes ‘Tim’ is speaking before Officer Grayson continues.</p><p>“I know, I know, it’s movie night. But something came up unexpectedly. I got a seventeen-year-old sitting in my back seat on the way to the station.”</p><p>Conner winces. Great. Not that he’ll ever meet this ‘Tim,’ but just hearing it said out loud makes him shiver. Conner jerks in surprise when Officer Grayson catches his eye in the mirror.</p><p>“My little brother wants to know if you’re cute.”</p><p>Conner blinks in surprise. He opens and closes his mouth, likely looking like a stupid fish from one of those cartoons Jon loves. Eventually, he shakes his head and pinches his thigh. Officer Grayson is still looking at him expectantly.</p><p>“I would like to think so, sir,” Conner says eventually, shifting in his seat and looking away.</p><p>Officer Grayson laughs, loud and clear. “He says he thinks he’s cute.”</p><p>Conner winces. He’s really not making a great first impression on this boy, even if they’ll never meet. Reputation matters, after all.</p><p>“I promise I’ll pick up Chinese from that place you like off of 9<sup>th</sup> street. Yes, Tim, I know that you don’t like their sweet and sour sauce. Look, we’re almost to the station. I’ll see you in an hour or two. Yes, I’ll be home before midnight. No, you can’t send Damian to bed. It is Friday. He can stay up until eleven-thirty.”</p><p>Officer Grayson laughs again before saying goodbye and hanging up.</p><p>“Sorry about that,” he says.</p><p>Conner hunches down into his seat. “No worries,” he mumbles.</p><p>“We’ll be at the station soon,” Officer Grayson says, meeting Conner’s eyes in the mirror again. “You can call your parents and we’ll get everything figured out. You’ll be fine.”</p><p>Conner is not, in fact, fine.</p><p>They arrive at the station nearly five minutes later, and Officer Grayson lets him use the office phone to call his parents. Lois picks up on the second ring, and Conner swears his ears are still ringing from when she yells his name when she arrives to pick him up thirty minutes later. Her expression conveys just how furious she is, even if her glare lets up slightly when she sees his face.</p><p>“Conner Kent!”</p><p>Conner winces in his seat. “Hey, Lois.”</p><p> “What the <em>hell</em> did you do?”</p><p>“Um…”</p><p>Conner is saved from further screaming when Officer Grayson makes it back to the lobby where he’s waiting.</p><p>“Are you Conner’s mom?” he asks, offering Lois his hand.</p><p>Lois nods, gripping his hand with her own. “Yes, Officer. Mind telling me exactly what happened here?”</p><p>Conner sinks low in his seat as Officer Grayson sets his hands on his hips and grins.</p><p>“Conner here decked a guy in the face before he could hit his girlfriend. The guy said he wanted to press charges, but I just got a call from the other officer who was there, and he said that the guy backed out. Besides, he gave Conner more of a beating than Conner gave to him.” He glances at Conner from the corner of his eye, smirk dangling off his lips. “You throw a nasty first punch though. I would have done the same.”</p><p>Lois’s icy expression thaws some. “I see.” She glances at Conner over Officer Grayson’s shoulder. “Anything else we need to do, or can I take him home?”</p><p>“You’re good to go. If anything happens, we’ll give you a call.”</p><p>Lois nods. “Come on, Conner. Clark and Jon are freaking out back home.”</p><p>Conner groans as he makes his way to his feet. “You told Jon where I was?”</p><p>“Well I wasn’t going to lie to him,” Lois says.</p><p>Conner makes his way over to her, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets. Lois nudges him with her elbow, but the small quirk of her lips proves that she’s not too mad at him. Conner relaxes.</p><p>“Thanks for everything, Officer,” Lois says.</p><p>Officer Grayson waves a hand. “No problem, you’ve got a good kid.”</p><p>“Most of the time.”</p><p>Conner feels the tips of his ears burn. “Thanks for everything, Officer Grayson. I appreciate it.”</p><p>“Like I said, no worries, kid. Go home. That’s what I’m doing; I’ve got Chinese food to pick up and two little brothers waiting to have a movie marathon.”</p><p>“Ah,” says Lois in understanding. “I get that. Thanks again, Officer. Have a good night.”</p><p>“Night,” Conner echoes.</p><p>Officer Grayson grins. “I’d say I’ll see you around, but I don’t think that’s something any of us would want.”</p><p>Lois snorts in amusement as she leads Conner from the station and towards her parked car. Once Conner is buckled in and they’re on their way back to the apartment, he sinks into the passenger seat, head thumping against the headrest.</p><p>“You’re never going to let me forget this, are you?”</p><p>Lois looks at him from the corner of her eye. “Never.”</p><p>/\/\/\</p><p>It’s the first Monday back from Thanksgiving break, and Tim’s class has already erupted with rumors. He only pays half attention, lets the words mostly slide into one ear and out the other. He’s exhausted because barely slept at all over break, too focused on hiding in his room and avoiding Jason and his slightly stabby tendencies.</p><p>Tim doesn’t even know why the man came back for the holiday. Probably because Alfred asked him too. Jason is the family’s resident rebel, who got tired of high school, so he dropped out and got his GED before leaving for college halfway across the country with barely a goodbye. Even two years later, and Jason is still tense and argument-prone whenever he comes home.</p><p>So, Tim’s exhausted, functioning at about sixty percent capacity, purely because he’s mostly dozing through his classes. It isn’t until third period when the whispers finally stop. Tim looks up, wary of the sudden silence. He glances around the classroom half-heartedly, gaze freezing when he sees what made his oh-so chatty classmates hush.</p><p>A boy Tim doesn’t recognize is making his way over to the teacher’s desk. Even from across the classroom, Tim can see the bruise darkening across his cheek. It’s an ugly thing, colored purple and black, molted and a little swollen.</p><p>The boy himself is tall and broad, with short dark hair and a leather jacket that shows just how great his shoulders really are.</p><p>
  <em>Wait.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>No.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Bad Tim.</em>
</p><p>The boy ignores the stares as he talks with the teacher, showing her a slip of paper and nodding when she tells him to take his seat. The boy, of course, sits two seats behind Tim. There’s no ‘eyes burning into the back of his head’ or anything else as equally ridiculous. Instead, Tim finds he’s too tired to give it more thought and continues as he has been all day.</p><p>Third period ends, and fourth period actually requires more than half of his attention because his sadist of an English teacher is assigning a group project as their semester final and none of his friends are in this class. Nor anyone he really trusts to pull their weight either.</p><p>Tim regretfully pairs up with a girl named Wendy who is known for writing the best essays in the class and her best friend, Lilah, who has OCD and the most organized person Tim has ever met.</p><p>The bell can’t ring soon enough, and Tim is out of his seat the moment it does. He waves goodbye to his new project mates and makes his way towards the lunchroom half-heartedly. The halls are crowded and loud, the cafeteria will be even more so. Tim works his way through the swarm of bodies until he finds his usual table.</p><p>Cassie is already there, fingers flying across the screen of her phone. He drops his backpack on the floor and sinks into his normal seat. Cassie spares him a quick glance.</p><p>“You okay?”</p><p>Tim groans in response. Cassie raises her brows.</p><p>“How much sleep did you get over break?”</p><p>Tim groans again. Cassie rolls her eyes.</p><p>“Idiot.”</p><p>“Not entirely my fault,” Tim says in a half-hearted attempt of defending himself.</p><p>Cassie sounds unimpressed. “Oh?”</p><p>“Jason,” says Tim.</p><p>“Oh,” Cassie says with a frown. “Never mind then. How bad was it?”</p><p>“A fight with B pretty much every night. He and Dick got into it after dinner on Thanksgiving. Alfred had to raise his voice.”</p><p>“No.” Cassie puts down her phone, sounding horrified. “That bad?”</p><p>“That bad,” Tim confirms.</p><p>Cassie pats his hand. “Sorry, Tim.”</p><p>“No worries. I think I might just go nap in the library. Raven’s there for her office aid period and she won’t rat on me.”</p><p>Cassie points a finger at him with a glare. “You need to eat.”</p><p>“I had breakfast.”</p><p>“I truly doubt that.”</p><p>“Ye of little faith.”</p><p>“For good reason, Tim.”</p><p>Tim levels her with a half-hearted glare. Cassie meets his glare with one of her own, and Tim is not so weak that he pretends he’s not terrified of what a pissed off, mother-henning Cassie can do. His shoulders slump further as he leans back in the hard plastic chair beneath him.</p><p>“Alfred—”</p><p>“Was probably busy seeing Jason off and sending Dick back to his apartment,” Cassie cuts him off, flipping her golden hair over her shoulder. “Don’t kid with me. I’ve listened to you bitch enough to know how Alfred gets when your brothers are back. Even the great butler isn’t infallible.”</p><p>Tim sighs, tipping his head back. He knows why Cassie’s voice sounds bitter. Dick was the first of Bruce’s children, Alfred has always been especially fond of Jason, and Damian still struggles to shrug off the influence of his upbringing while living with his mother. Tim is rather well adjusted in comparison and sometimes falls through the cracks.</p><p>Alfred’s a busy man, sure, but it still hurts sometimes.</p><p>Before Tim can respond to Cassie’s slight dig, their other friend comes speeding up to the table, dragging a disgruntled looking somebody behind him.</p><p>“Hi guys!” says Bart.</p><p>He plants himself in front of their table, his wild brow curls a mess from his usual sprint through the hallways. Tim turns his head to look at him, brows raising in surprise when he sees just who Bart has been dragging around behind him.</p><p>Bart, pulls the student in front of him, firm hand on his wrist to keep him from ducking away. Bart grins, wide and bright.</p><p>“This is Conner! Conner, these are my friends, Cassie and Tim!”</p><p>Conner shifts awkwardly beside him, hands curling around the straps of his backpack. The dark bruise on his cheek practically shines in the bright cafeteria light.</p><p>“Nice to meet you,” Cassie says diplomatically, not hiding the fact that she’s staring at his bruise as she sizes him up. “You must be the guy that has the whole volleyball team drooling.”</p><p>Conner’s cheeks darken to a rosy red. He shifts from foot to foot once again. “There has been some giggling when I walk by,” he admits.</p><p>Tim snorts in amusement. “That’ll pass in a week or two. School’s just big enough for rumors to be forgotten as soon as a new one pops up.”</p><p>Bart nods enthusiastically. “They’re all just excited because they totally think you’re a badass who’s part of a fight club!”</p><p> Cassie laughs, and Tim bites his cheek to keep from joining her.</p><p>“Come on, Bart,” he says. “Leave him alone. It’s no one’s business but his.” He turns to look at Conner directly. “Sorry about Bart. He’s excitable and knows all the latest gossip.”</p><p>Bart beams. “Yup!”</p><p>Tim rolls his eyes with a smile. “Go ahead and sit down,” he says. “We won’t bite.”</p><p>Bart plops down next to Tim immediately, and Conner follows his lead hesitantly, taking the seat between Cassie and Bart and across from Tim. Cassie leans forward with a wicked grin.</p><p>“So is it true?” she asks. “Did your face get busted in an underground fight club?”</p><p>“Cassie, c’mon.”</p><p>“Hush, Tim. You want to know too.”</p><p>“Doesn’t mean I’m going to pry into his personal life.”</p><p>Cassie glares at him, but she looks back to Conner quickly. “So?”</p><p>Conner shifts in his seat. “I got into a fight when I was getting groceries for my stepmom. Some guy was about to start beating on his girlfriend. I stepped in. He got in a few hits before the police showed up.”</p><p>“Huh,” Bart leans back in his seat. “Not what I was expecting.”</p><p>Cassie just smiles. “Good on you. I think we might just get along.”</p><p>Tim nods in agreement, though it’s a struggle to keep his eyes from drifting shut. Damn Jason and his ability to fight with absolutely everyone in the damn family. At least he didn’t try and stab someone (mainly Tim) this time.</p><p>Bart is practically vibrating in his seat. Tim can feel it from where their knees occasionally bump together.</p><p>“So, what happened with the cops? Were you arrested?”</p><p>“Uh, not really,” says Conner. “The other guy threatened to press charges but backed out when he realized it was just going to be worse for him. Officer Grayson was already driving me to the station, so I just called my family from there.”</p><p>Tim jerks up. Cassie blinks in surprise. Bart screeches in excitement.</p><p>“That’s Tim’s brother!”</p><p>Conner stiffens, cheeks bursting back into color. Tim groans and wonders if he could suffocate in the 600 hall bathroom where all the potheads light up when they skip class.</p><p>“You’re Officer Grayson’s little brother? The one who…?”</p><p>“Well the thirteen-year-old definitely wasn’t the one asking.”</p><p>Bart’s features light up in a look that Tim has come to be wary of. Very wary. Bart looks absolutely mischievous.</p><p>“Asking what?”</p><p>“Nothing,” Tim says.</p><p>“No, no,” Cassie grins. “Please, do tell.”</p><p>“Nothing,” Tim repeats.</p><p>Conner remains silent. His cheeks are still flaming pink, and Bart lights up even further.</p><p>“Please, spill the beans,” he pleads. “Tim never does anything embarrassing! Help us out here; give us the deets!”</p><p>“No need,” Tim says. “I was just clarifying something with Dick.”</p><p>Bart pouts. “You’re no fun.”</p><p>Tim shrugs. Conner stares at him. Hesitantly, he asks, “Dick?”</p><p>“His brother’s name is Dick,” Cassie provides. “Don’t ask us why that’s the nickname he would choose.”</p><p>Conner nods, though he still looks uncomfortable. Tim takes pity on him.</p><p>“It’s what his parents called him. He hates going by Richard, so he keeps their name for him.” He shrugs. “Don’t worry about it.”</p><p>Cassie huffs. “Bart’s right. You’re no fun.”</p><p>Tim rolls his eyes. “I’m plenty of fun. That’s why you come to me whenever you need revenge.”</p><p>Conner looks confusedly between them. Bart pats his shoulders with a consolatory nod.</p><p>“Tim’s a hoot once you get to know him. Wicked smart when it comes to computers. Great mind for petty revenge too.”</p><p>Tim glares. “Quiet. I’ve helped Cassie with one asshole ex. You both act like I’ve hacked the school’s database for fun.” At their deadpan looks, Tim sighs. “Not the point.”</p><p>“Wait,” says Conner. “You’ve hacked the school?”</p><p>Tim shoots him a look. “Tell the whole cafeteria, why don’t you? I see Principle Smith a few tables down.”</p><p>Quietly, “You’ve hacked the school?”</p><p> Tim rolls his eyes. “What? Like it’s hard?”</p><p>Cassie snorts into her water bottle. Bart bends over in an attempt to keep in his laughter, wheezing in short little gasps instead. Conner just stares at him.</p><p>“You’ve hacked the school.”</p><p>“At least it didn’t sound like a question this time,” Bart says between wheezes.</p><p>Conner leans back in his seat, eyes slightly wide. “Does Officer Grayson know?”</p><p>“Please,” Tim says. “Dick knows about a third of what I can actually do. It’s not like he tracks my computer activity anymore.”</p><p>
  <em>“Anymore?”</em>
</p><p>Bart slings an arm around Conner’s shoulder. “My friend,” he says with an absolutely predatory grin, “We have so many stories to tell you.”</p><p>“Oh joy,” says Tim.</p><p>/\/\/\</p><p>The rest of the semester drags on. Finals are a total bitch, as usual, but Tim aces them without studying, as usual. His semester project with Wendy and Lilah even ends up displayed in the library.</p><p>All in all, Tim is ready to check out for the three weeks of winter break.</p><p>Jason may be coming back to the Manor (a rare occurrence considering he was there for Thanksgiving; Tim smells the involvement of Roy and Kori), but Dick is staying at his apartment aside from Christmas and New Year’s. On the days he’s not working, he’ll probably take the demon brat to stay with him. Tim has enough experience in avoiding Jason that it shouldn’t be a problem to prevent a fight before it can start by simply staying out of sight.</p><p>Of course, Tim, once again, screws himself by forgetting one important detail: Brucie goddamn Wayne always hosts a New Year’s party at the manor, and attendance of all the Wayne children is mandatory.</p><p>Honestly. Screw him.</p><p>/\/\/\</p><p>Tim may have grown up in the suit and tie, may know how to play the audience of any gala until they’re wrapped around his finger, but that doesn’t mean he likes it. It’s a role that’s easy to slide into from the years of practice, and he hates it with a passion.</p><p>Mrs. Whitmore has already tried to ruffle his hair twice.</p><p>Mr. Johannsen has offered him a cigar and a jack and coke.</p><p>Alison Mohr has groped him and slipped her phone number and a condom into his jacket pocket.</p><p>Honestly, Tim thinks he might actually kill someone if it meant he could leave this godforsaken party before midnight.</p><p>Instead (because Bruce would not be happy if someone died at his party, and Alfred would be furious if he had to clean blood out of his suit), he hides in the corner by the grand staircase where he knows the shadows make it exceptionally difficult to see him. His phone is in his hand, but his eyes are tracking the movements of the guests around him. His family, too, though he’ll never admit that out loud.</p><p>Dick and Damian are raiding the child-friendly bar, which Bruce had catered even though Damian is about one of a dozen people under the age of twenty-one in the entire party.</p><p>Bruce is flirting with three different society women, no doubt schmoozing them into donating to the Wayne Foundation.</p><p>Jason is hiding in his own corner, and when he catches Tim looking, he glares until Tim sinks further into the shadows and looks away.</p><p>Alfred is catering the party and is moving too much to really keep track of. Tim tries nonetheless because Alfred will have his hide if he spends the entire party hiding—</p><p>“What are you doing hiding back here?”</p><p>Tim practically jumps several feet in the air as he whirls around, coming face to chest with Conner. He draws a deep breath to calm his racing heart before swatting at Conner’s shoulder.</p><p>“Don’t sneak up on me like that,” he gripes, slipping his phone into his pocket. “God, how does a farm boy from Kansas sneak up on people like that?”</p><p>Conner grins. “Have to be quiet so you don’t scare the animals away.” He leans in slightly, nose almost brushing against Tim’s ear. “It’s like I’m floating.”</p><p>Tim laughs, pushing him away. “What are you doing here?”</p><p>Conner shrugs. “Clark always gets an invite since he covers pretty much every Wayne story out there.”</p><p>“Ah,” Tim hums. “Expect for Vicki Vale’s gossip columns, you mean?”</p><p>Conner’s face twists into an ugly scowl. “She’s a disgrace to journalism. Honestly, stalking a sixteen year old? What’s wrong with her?”</p><p>“Didn’t you know,” Tim fake-whispers, “that I’m actually Bruce’s biological child, a bastard produced between him and the CEO of Drake Industries behind her husband’s back? Oh, and that I have a suspiciously lacking social presence, especially when I was young?”</p><p>Conner huffs. “Like I said, a disgrace to journalism. Why you out of all of your brothers?”</p><p>“Because I was part of the high society before Bruce adopted me. Oh, and he knew me before my parents bit the dust. All very suspicious.”</p><p>“Bitch.”</p><p>Tim nods in solemn agreement. Conner frowns for a moment before he nudges Tim’s shoulder.</p><p>“Want to get out of here? I heard there’s a good pizza place in Midtown I haven’t tried yet.”</p><p>Tim grins. “I thought you’d never ask.”</p>
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